


Bitter Coffee

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Emetophobia, Father-Son Relationship, Fever, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Illnesses, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poison, Poisoning, Sick Character, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Worried Tony Stark, kinda i mean lmfao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 15:56:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14697483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Peter thinks he has the flu but superheroes don't get sick days and he has a certain Tony Stark to impress.





	Bitter Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> ((Didn't really edit this just something I wrote up quick, hope you like it anyway I really love that Tony Peter relationship fuq me up fam.))

Peter rubbed his eyes sleepily and scanned the room of S.H.I.E.L.D uniforms until his eyes landed on The back of Mr. Stark’s head. He looked busy, as he herded two people carrying a crate towards the loading dock, sticking behind as the men scurried up the ramp.

“C’mon people, chop chop, haven’t you ever heard of a deadline.”

Peter approached, clearing his throat quietly in an attempt to have his voice come out clear. “Hey, Mr. Stark I’m sorry I’m late-”

Mr. Stark didn’t even fully turn to face him. “Yeah no, Kid, you’re right on time these guys are just taking longer than they should be.” He said it tactically loud enough for the agents to hear, several of them casts sheepish looks in their direction.

Mr. Stark was holding two cups of coffee, one in each hand, he held one out to Peter, who took it from him with awkward hands and held it to his chest. It was nice to hold something warm in his cold hands.

“Blame Happy if you don’t like it, he’s the one that picked them up.” Mr. Stark took a sip of his own and made a face. “Hope you like buckets of sugar.”

Peter took a sip of his own, cautiously. It was extremely bitter, black probably. “Mr. Stark I think you switched-”

Peter cut himself as Tony sighed deeply at his a sleek flip phone and dialed something into it, Muttering under his breath, and then taking a proper swig of the drink.

Peter decided to just let it go, and did the same, hoping the coffee would quell the heavy tiredness sitting on the edge of his bones.

Peter felt the tickle in his throat itch it’s way up again and he tried his best to stifle the few quick coughs into his sleeve. Tony was too busy doing whatever important thing he was to even seem to notice.

Apparently, his body didn’t care if he was a superhero or had a mission or a certain Tony Stark to impress enough to start taking him seriously. He’d woken up with an obvious head cold, but Peter had ignored it gotten dressed, throwing on a second hoodie before dashing out into the new york city streets and swinging his way towards Stark industries.

It was a freezing cold morning, little specks of snow falling in sheets over the city, a beautiful sight, but it was hard to truly appreciate alongside the ache in his temples.

He was supposed to meet Mr. Stark at the towers, and help deliver a dozen crates of powerful weapons to the compound a few hours away.

Tony still hadn’t given Peter any especially important or dangerous or even non-babysitting in on tasks since he’d turned down the superior suit and title of Avenger. He started regretting his words at the compound a few months earlier about fulfilling his friendly neighborhood quota. It was true that he still wanted to do that for the time being, but he was also hoping that Tony would start taking him more seriously, or trusting that he could be more than just a sidekick, and a kid, he was spiderman after all!

Suddenly fingers are snapping in front of his face, Peter jolts a bit at the sudden sound and looks up to see Tony staring down at him, eyebrow raised.

“You zoning out on me kid?” He asks, and Peter quickly shakes his head.

“N-No Mr. Stark,” Peter says stumbling over his words for an excuse, “I’m sorry I was just thinking about something at school today and- yeah no I’m good.”

Tony narrowed his eyes and for a second Peter wondered if he could see right through him, but then he shrugged, “Alright, Vamonos then.” and started towards the now loaded craft. Peter followed after him, throwing the half unfinished coffee in the trash behind him.

Peter knew that he could probably manage to make it to the compound without causing too much suspicion to be thrown his way, but he hadn’t actually accounted for what it would be like on the ship. the engine hummed loudly under his feet, the shaking made his stomach ache get worse along with the sharp pains between his eyes

the air was dense, stuffy and that irritated his already chapped nose and scratchy throat even further. he was thankful for the mask hiding his expression and sweat but it also made it harder to breathe.

Mr. Stark had led him over to a long steel bench seated just in front of the creates they were guarding because the two of them were the ‘first line of defense’. Mr. Stark had his phone out, shifting between talking over it to various important people and sending texts so fast he could rival any popular kid at Peter’s school.

The longer he watched Mr. Stark go about his business the more apparent it because to him that there was no real threat. This conclusion came to him the strongest when he began talking to pepper about dinner plans. It stung honestly, that he was here on another baby step mission, even though he’d known deep down that’s all this was.

He listened absently while Mr. Stark listed off a few places to eat,

The thought of food had Peter’s stomach rolling. He was forcing himself to sit up straight despite rising nausea when Mr. Stark finally said goodbye and hung up. Peter wasn’t expecting him to turn and begin talking, he was so focused on keeping himself together than he ended up hearing just the second half.

He stared at Mr. Stark, trying to piece the sentence together.

Tony raised an eyebrow at him behind his sunglasses. “Seriously kid, Again with the zoning?”

Peter felt the heat rise all the way up to his ears. “Sorry Mr. Stark I’ll pay more attention”

Tony leaned forward, his sunglasses sliding down further on his nose, “This is a long trip you know. plenty of time to catch up.” Peter felt his heart skip, did he know?

“uhm-”

“So what’s got you in the clouds today, an important test coming up?”

“N-no uh-”

“ Then is it a pretty transfer student just get put behind ya?”

Peter shook his head and tried not to wince at the new wave of pain permeating through his temples. “No nothing like that”

“Your lovely aunt cooking your favorite meal later?”

“She doesn’t really cook much.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

Tony sighed dramatically, leaning back against the cool metal of the craft. “I concede.” he huffed, Peter was hoping that Mr. Stark would just leave it there but after a few seconds went on he spoke again, “C'mon kid, don’t leave me hanging here It’s pretty rare to get me in an advice-giving type of mood.”

Peter tried to come up with an excuse of any kind but when he opened his mouth to give it he ended up coughing instead. It wasn’t just a small one he could hide either, it was the kind that had him trying not to double over too far and rattled his chest painfully as it passed.

“Kid?”

Mr. Stark stiffened next to him and Peter felt hands grip his shoulders, He could hear Mr. Stark talking to him but wasn’t processing what he was saying. The cramp in his stomach was suddenly piercing like someone was stabbing him. Peter reached up shakily for his mask, Mr. Stark helped him pull it off, and Peter stifled the rest of them into his hands.

When they finally tapered off he felt exhausted, and shaky and clammy and downright awful, the pain in his stomach had somehow managed to wrap around to his back, and when he was pulled back into a sitting position it took him a second to focus on the spinning floor, then another to focus on Mr Stark’s tense voice.

“Hey, Peter! Can you hear me?”

Crap.

Peter swallowed the phlegm in his throat, thick and foamy, then forced himself to look up,

“I’m f-fine really, I just-”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick!?” Tony all but screamed, Peter winced at the sudden volume of his voice.

“I’m not sick” He mumbled, but his voice was hoarse and shaky and anything but convincing.

“Bullshit.” Tony cursed, “I can feel the fever under your suit.”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut as he wondered distantly if Mr. Antman would be willing to trade powers with him.

Tony’s voice got sharper suddenly, “Hey- kid come on look at me.” Mr. Stark was suddenly on his knees in front of Peter, gripping both of his shoulders a little too tightly to be comfortable.

“When did you get down there?” Peter asked before he could stop himself. He felt weird, dazed like he wasn’t fully connected to his body.

Mr. Stark’s eyebrows knit, his mouth drawing into a thin line.

“Sorry.” Peter rasped, “I didn’t mean- I’m sorry.”

But Mr. Stark didn’t say anything, instead, he reached forward and grabbed Peter’s wrist and turned it over. In the center of the red cloth was a spot just slightly darker than the rest. Peter’s first thought was that he’d drooled over it. Embarrassed he pulled his palm away, Mr. Stark let him and Peter held the hand close to his chest, wiping it away uncomfortably.

“Christ kid, stay here for a second.” Mr. Stark quickly got up and made his way towards the front of the plane. A wave of dread hit peter, he suddenly felt as if this was the final straw. Mr. Stark would take away his suit again and drop him off somewhere and Peter would have to be alone.

“Wait!” his voice cracked on the word and Peter pursed his lips, trying to ignore the wave of mortification that hit him. Mr. Stark was going to think he even more pathetic now. The man turned back to him, an undecipherable look took over his features.

“I’ll be right back,” he said firmly and pushed through the door. Peter felt the shaking get worse and wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to stop it.

He didn’t feel hot anymore but thought he’d prefer it over the coldness that had settled over him. The sweat made it that much worse, acting as a conductor for the freezing air around him and Peter wanted to just peel it off.

He needed to go apologies to Mr. Stark for ruining everything, maybe he could change his mind about throwing Peter off the craft. He wondered if he’d come back with some of the agents and have them do it for him, maybe he wouldn’t come back at all, Peter doubted he wanted to be around a sick kid, especially one that had disappointed him this much.

Something wet his knee and Peter looked up to find a leaky pipe or some other source, when he couldn’t it took him a painfully long time to realize that the wetness was tears, coming from him. He wiped them away quickly his mind racing with the idea of Mr. Stark actually catching him like this.

Surely his attempt to convince Mr. Stark that he was worth keeping would fail immediately. Peter feverishly tried to get himself to stop, but couldn’t.

Eventually, another wrack of coughs bubbled up, Peter squeezed his mouth shut, using the mask as a way to keep them quiet by bending forward.

And then falling forward.

It was like he blinked.

One second he was sitting back against the cool metal of the craft and the next he was face first on the ground, his vision hazy as he deciphered how he got there. He tried to swallow and found himself choking on something foamy, he could barely breathe.

And god his stomach. Peter doesn’t even try to stifle his sobs, clutching the area with both hands and curling in on himself in an attempt to just stop the blinding pain the wracked him.

“Peter!” He felt hands on him, manhandling him up and into a sitting position, and he couldn’t help but scream. It hurt, being moved like that, being touched and jostled. Suddenly Peter felt himself heaving forwards, spitting bile all over the floor, all over someone’s shirt.

He spits to the side, coughing and trying to keep himself from doing it again. Pathetic.

he moaned between coughs, “I’m sorry, I know- Just p-please don’t~” whoever it was pulled him forwards, Peter’s face was pressed into someones warm chest, a hand went up to cup the back of his head.

“Fuck!, Hey,” The voice was Mr. Stark, Peter wasn’t sure if that was good or bad but it was impossibly soft. “It’s alright don’t talk, breathe.”

Peter was having trouble coming up with anything to say so he did was he was told instead, focusing on breathing, but it felt like he was sucking air through a straw. This was not right. He’d been sick before, horribly miserably sick before even becoming Spiderman, where he had to skip school for three weeks and could barely leave his room. This wasn’t that.

“Get Happy right now, We’re fucking landing!”

Even though the haze of his thought he knew There was something dangerously wrong with him. This wasn’t a sickness it was something else. His powers were going crazy, the spider bite was finally reaping what it sewed.

He was dying.

Did Mr. Stark know? He had to, didn’t he?

“I-Mr Stark, h-help.” he managed to gasp, his vision blurred wildly around Mr. Stark’s face, he closed his eyes instead of trying to focus, gripping Mr. Starks suit jacket with a tight fist, before losing his grip on everything including the soft fabric.

***

Peter wakes up in phases.

He deems the first phase the pain phase because holy thor, it hurts. Not as bad as before. He can’t imagine anything hurting as bad as before, even though the details of why are fuzzy in phase one.

His stomach is a constant wave pool of aches, coming and going and then coming again in slow drawn out succession, never truly gone but never so agonizing. His head feels stuffed full of cotton, his thoughts sluggish drops of water finding ways between the cracks. His back is probably the worst because it’s itchy, it makes him feel uncomfortably antsy like he needs to get up and run around or buy a back-scratcher at the convenience store at least.

The fever is still all over his body but mostly concentrated in a band across his eyes, forcing tears to the corners.

He calls the second phase the sense phase because that’s when his other senses, besides ‘ow that smarts’, begin to kick back in. there’s a steady beep of a heart monitor, a sound he thinks he probably knows too well by now. He’s laying on a soft bed, pillows tucked behind his back so that he’s propped up just slightly. He forces his eyes open and carefully looks around keeping his glances slow and deliberate so they don’t ache too bad.

He’s not wearing a shirt or pants, but his boxers are still in place and there’s a thin sheet draped over his stomach to his thighs.

There’s an oxygen mask over his face, Iv’s in his arms.

Peter was never the biggest fan of needles. He forces himself to look away with a slight wince.

The room is decently sized and a pleasant blue color. One of the four walls is practically a giant window, stretching across the whole expanse in evenly sectioned panels. The bed he’s in is too far away from it to see what’s directly below the room, but there’s a lush pine forest just beyond a short dry grassed field. 

The stars are clearly visible, the clouds from earlier must have cleared out, and the snow must have stopped completely. 

Peter realizes he’s drifting and forces himself back to reality. Mentally slapping himself to stay focused, stay awake. He turns his head to the right and almost jumps out of his IV’s.

There’s a man at the foot of his bed, sitting in a chair, neck bent back at an uncomfortable angle as he snores softly. Peter squints in the dim lighting to try and figure out who it is but then he realizes that the dim blue light isn’t from a phone, but from his chest and it’s obvious.

The last phase doesn’t have a name, it’s when everything else floods back at once, leaving him reeling, and feeling nauseous all over again. Peter opens his mouth to let Mr Stark know he’s awake, but it gets caught in his throat. He doesn’t want to talk right now, he doesn’t want to do anything but sleep.

And he lets himself be selfish.

***

The next time he wakes up, the oxygen mask is gone and the sun is high in the sky, casting rays across the bed and floors. There’s a woman in the room, checking the machines by his bed. She’s wearing scrubs and Peter blinks up at her, watching her fiddle with a clipboard with hazy rimmed interest until he sees her turn and lock on him.

She blinks at him, her eyes wide for just a moment before her expression softens. She leans forward to help prop him up, pulling a thin blue blanket over his shoulders. “Back with us, Mr. Parker?” He takes a second to reacquaint himself with his body. the pains have all mostly died down to soft aches, the worst of is concentrated in his stomach and throat.

Peter swallows thickly, his mouth tastes sour and dry, but he manages a polite smile, “Y-yeah, mostly.” and then tries not to cringe at how rough and cracked his voice comes out.

She nods to him as if he hadn’t just sounded like a microwaved frog. “I’ll go get you some water and let Tony know you’re awake.” Peter is caught off guard for a moment. He thought for sure Mr Stark would have to leave, he sounded so busy on the phone earlier, making appointments and giving directions to others.

Nerves kick in but there’s also some relief in there. He knows Mr Stark, not super well but better than anyone here probably, and a familiar face sounds really good about now.

Peter comes back down to earth when he realizes the nurse is waiting for a response, “Ah- Thanks.”

“Of course sweetheart.”

***

Apparently, the Methanol wasn’t meant for him.

S.H.E.I.L.D had a wide variety of enemies, and Tony himself, just as many if not more. The Black Coffee that Happy had picked up from their usual place had been spiked by a man posing as a barista. They already had him in custody, the organization he was working for was being looked into.

It’d been a full 24 hours since Peter had originally collapsed. S.H.E.I.L.D moved fast, that he didn’t need to be told.

Tony finishes relaying the information with a casual brush of his hands. “And that’s the news.”

He’d barely looked at Peter the entire time and Peter is pretty much sure it’s because he’d acted like an embarrassing child proving Tony’s point. That and because he’d actually puked all over the man’s expensive suit.

Tony has deep-set circles under his eyes, his hair is an absolute mess and he’s wearing a S.H.E.I.L.D logo hoodie. One thick enough to hide the glow of his reactor underneath. Peter chews on his bottom lip as the two of them sit in an uncomfortable blanket of silence.

Tony rubs his face in his hands, “Listen.”

“-I’m sorry I threw up on you.” Peter blurts before Mr stark can finish.

The man looks up at him with one of his eyebrows raised so high Peter thought it might get lost under his hairline.

He barks out a dry laugh, void of humor. “I mean yeah not the most pleasant moment of my life, but I don’t care that you puked on me okay. Anything that gives me a reason to buy a new suit is more of a plus anyway, believe me.” There’s an air of casualness in his tones, that makes Peter feel like he should really just drop it, and a little embarrassed for even bringing it up. 

He turns his gaze to his hands, where he grasps the sheets underneath his fists. There’s another pause of silence, it stretches painfully long between beeps in the monitor.

Mr. Stark is the one who breaks it again, “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling sick?” he asks, catching the boy off guard. Mr. Stark suddenly looks angry. “Why did it take until you were seizing on the floor to ask for help.”

“I…”

Mr. Stark presses on, “I need an answer, Peter, If you didn’t- You realize that you could have died don’t you!?”

“I-” Peter bites his lip to keep it from wobbling. He really doesn’t want to cry, especially in front of Mr. Stark but he’s not sure if he’ll be able to help it. He still felt so raw and detached, hungry and nauseous and sick all at the same time. “I didn’t want you to t-think I was weak.”

Mr Stark rubs the spot between his eyes, “Getting poisoned doesn’t make you weak don’t be stupid-”

“I didn’t know!” Peter says a little louder than he’d meant to.

Mr. Stark clenches his jaw. “You had to have felt it, Peter!”

“I was sick Mr stark. I woke up sick so I thought it was just- I thought it was the flu a-and” Peter can feel his chest tightening, his voice getting more strained. “the plane was just making it worse, and I was b-being dramatic,” His breathing getting rougher, he pulls his arms up in a gesture, squeezing his fists tightly in an attempt to ground himself. “I didn’t want to disappoint you again! I’m Spider-man, and the Avengers don’t get sick days- I don’t get sick days! I-I didn’t want to look like a-a stupid kid- I know you already think I’m pathetic-”

Mr stark grabs his wrists suddenly, tightly “Okay- kid-Peter, okay I get it please calm down. hey!”

It’s then where Peter realizes just how heavily he’s breathing, how the nausea that had quelled had started coming back up again. He forces himself to breathe deeply a few times, through his nose out his mouth. He feels Mr. Stark’s grip loosen and then let him go and Peter tucks his hands under his armpits to keep them from trembling.

Mr Stark pulls the chair a little closer, folding his arms over the bed, he reaches back and gives Peter a few awkward pats on the shoulder, “Okay, you’re alright.” he looks like he wants to do more but doesn’t. “I’m going to level with you, I’m going to be completely serious, and talk straightforwardly and earnestly… and I don’t do this often, capisce.”

Peter blinks at him and nods his head.

“Peter Parker, you are not pathetic. You are not stupid. I know that I can come off harsh and, ‘judgey’” he puts the word in air quotes, “But don’t think for one second that I don’t think you’re a strong and dangerously intelligent young man.”

Peter blinks, this feels like a weird alternate reality. “R-really?”

Mr Stark grimaces, “One might even say annoyingly so.”

Peter purses his lips, “You’re not just saying that because I’m in the hospital right?” It’s a poor attempt at a joke and Mr Stark does humor him with a little puff of air.

It’s Not exactly a laugh but Peter will take it. “I mean it but don’t let that go to your head, okay?”

Peter nods. “O-okay.”

Mr. Stark sighs, “Great so that being said, and this is very important, You are a kid.”

“But-”

“Mr stark shakes his head, “ah ah ah, No buts. You may be Spiderman, but first and foremost you are a sixteen-year-old highschooler, you are allowed to have sick days, you’re allowed to feel cruddy. What’s immature, and what’s dangerous is when you’re too prideful to admit these things. You put yourself and others in danger.”

Peter forces his gaze to his lap and nods. “I… understand.”

“And- Peter this is probably the most important point. If something happens to you- If you die on my watch It will destroy me.” Peter’s breath catches in his throat. Mr Stark gives him a weak smile, “You don’t want to be responsible for Tony Stark’s downward spiral do you?”

Peter shakes his head. “No- No sir.”

“Good.” Says Mr. Stark, leaning back in his chair. “I-” Mr Stark clears his throat, “Kid I care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt. Please remember that.”

Peter nods, wipes the tears out of his eyes with his palms as Mr Stark get’s to his feet. He claps his hands together, “Okay, now i’m gonna go get us breakfast, but don’t expect anything fancy, it’s dry toast for you bucko.”

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS FOR READIN!  
> and thanks so much for likes/kudos and especially comments. comments mean the woRLD to me in terms of motivation. <3


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